Here’s just one of the many fine things about reading stories into my iPod to be read to you: I can read a story like Olesha, and stop and get all breathy in the middle because I’ve forgotten that he constructs it that way, or I can catch myself from snickering in the middle because I’m just IN AWE of how someone can be so sharp and funny as to turn an isolationist rant into a beautiful dreamscape, or I can read the story while nude in the bath or fully clothed and under an umbrella in the shower, and YOU JUST WOULDN’T KNOW ANY DIFFERENCE.
1 sometimes translit. Olyesha
2 sometimes trans. The Cherry Pit
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